


Everybody Leaves

by space_kid (orphan_account)



Series: The Hunter and The Angel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comforting Castiel, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, hopelessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/space_kid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean spirals into hopelessness, and it takes Castiel to fix him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Elizabeth Smart's song by the same name. It made me feel feelings, so I highly suggest checking it out on YouTube, along with her other Supernatural songs <3

It's gloomy days like today, where the rain assaults the windows with the water, where the thunder screams in agony against the blackened sky, where the lightening burns patches of Earth, scorching dirt and killing grass in a flash.

It's days like today, when Dean Winchester realizes everybody leaves. 

Everyone he cares about, everyone he knows, everyone he loves, leaves. Dean will always end up alone and lonely and a shell of the man who saved hundreds of lives, who kills Satan spawns, who battled with angels and survived hell. Mary. John. Even Sam isn't the Sam who left to help him find their father. Little Sammy got mixed with the demons, and tainted his sense of mind at even the youngest of ages. The stings every time Sam asked where John was, the burns every time Sam drank the rancid demon blood. The memories of the people he knew, who eventually got tired of the way Dean lived, walking out, claiming to need a fresh breath of air and a piece of mind. They never returned, leaving Dean to wonder what he ever did to deserve this life style. Their memories would flicker in his mind like a candle, sputtering and spitting with flames and smoke, until the flame would go out, leaving him broken and bent and lost. 

Sometimes, they were even ripped from his hands, slipping between his clammy fingers much like grains of sand. He'd try and pick up the pieces desperately, not yet willing to let them go, until he'd feel their nails rip skin, and they'd be dragged into heaven or hell, screaming and crying, not yet wanting to leave. Even though if they lived, they'd leave Dean anyway, because everybody does. And he'd be left on his knees, a dirt paved road beneath him, shouting at the sky and raking his hands through slicked up hair, just begging for someone to stay, please dear god, stay.

Everybody leaves, Dean Winchester. Everybody.

It was on those gloomy and lost days Dean wondered what John would think of his oldest, acting like a girl, and not just taking it like a man and standing up. Dean wants to scream at the ground, that he has been taking it all his life. It's been crushing, suffocating him since he was born, tasked with taking monsters on head on and protect Sam from the world. It's why he's starting to crack, after his sanity and self worth was slowly chipped away, leaving him feeling like the way he does. _Broken. _It's days like today he thinks back on hell, the torture and pain and blood being _everywhere. _Alistair, the souls he beat until his knuckles bled, his throat raw from wailing his brother's name to the open abyss of hell, where no one heard him, and those who did ignored him, snickering about how they got another Winchester.____

It's days like today Dean wants everyone and everything to cease to exist, so he can lay in a puddle of his own blood, and not have someone asking if he's okay. Because he knows if someone asks him, his throat will constrict, his eyes will betray him, and show them just how much he wants to break down, and just scream to anyone who will listen 'NO. I'M NOT OKAY.' But he'll give a smile, and insist he's fine. He's done it a million times before, one more lie shouldn't hurt. Adding one more pebble to the mountain of lies resting upon his back, threatening to squish him at any moment he thinks of telling someone how empty he really feels. How much he has given up. How much he hurts. How much he hates everything, and everyone. How much he wants to be dead and left alone. Everyone leaves. Even Dean will leave.

It's days like today Dean usually spends simply thinking, and never truly acting his frustrations. Sure, he'll be a bit more reckless on hunts, and his grin will only be a bit more forced then it usually is, weighed down with the woes he faces. But today, the rain is a bit more venomous, the thunder a bit more treacherous, the lightening a bit more violent, that Dean wants to do something. Anything. The empty feeling has hallowed him out even more then he is, and he's afraid if he takes one step, he'll collapse on the floor in a heap of bruised limbs, and scarred memories. One movement, and he'll be pulled under by the seamonster known as Dean's sub conscious, leaving the hunter spitting and gasping until he ceases to breath, and removed from any prophecies the angels have planned. Dean sits on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his jean covered knees and sporting his leather battle armor. His head is in his hands, clammy and gross as he focuses on whatever Sam has been talking about from the past couple of minutes. Something about a case with another demon, another grieving widow, another patch of sulfur. If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say this was an easy case, in and out with as little blood as possible. But the memories of Jo, Ellen, Ash, Bobby, Lisa, and Ben are stuck on repeat, on the same horrendous loop they've always been on. 'If you never met them, they would still be alive. They left because you looked at them and said hello. How pathetic are you?' Dean was far too tired to rebel against the voices, clearly speaking the truth.

"DEAN!" 

Dean looks up to Sam, who is standing rather impatiently in from of him, hands on his hips, and an annoyed scowl on his face. Dean is too defeated to grin at the childish pout. "What? Sorry, I'm listening." 

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, I got a call about the case." 

Dean perked up a bit, or at least pretended to for Sammy. Another pebble. "Oh really?"

"Yup, lady said her husband stayed out for poker nights at his buddy's house." Sam grinned, obviously pleased with himself. "Think it's worth checking out?"

Dean looked at Sam, but saw straight through him. Jo and Ellen were screaming in his mind, chanting in eerie unison "ALL YOUR FAULT. ALL YOUR FAULT." Dean wanted to clutch his hands over his ears, muting the ghosts that tormented him. Lisa looked to him, obviously disappointed, "How could you? How could you do this to me?" She looked down. "I thought you loved me." Dean wanted to run until his feet left bloody footprints, and he would simply stop living. Bobby walked up, and grabbed the front of his shirt forcefully, pulling him close. "You know Sam could handle situations better then you, Dean. He was always the better hunter, and better person. You got too many damn emotions." He'd let go, but glare daggers at him. "John would be ashamed." Dean wanted to scream until his voice gave out, and he'd never have to say hello again.

But since Sammy was still staring at him, slightly concerned, Dean looked into his worried eyes, seeing pain and guilt.  
"You check it out. I'll do some research." Dean had no intention of research.

Sam raised an eyebrow, but exhaled softly. "You.. sure? I'm usually the one doing research.…"

"Well, hotshot," Dean smiled, another pebble, "consider this your day off. Go exorcise some demons, Sammy." Sam looked at Dean for a bit, and he worried if he was going to ask the question that would make his castle come crumbling down, and his world to stop spinning. But Sam took a breath, and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair.

"Well, good luck with the research, Dean. I'll call if I'm in trouble." He looked stern for a moment, hands hovering above the door knob, before turning to face Dean completely, shoulders squared. "If you get in trouble too, call, okay?" He asked, the worry returning. Dean swallowed his guilt, knowing what was going to come. And a part of him thought Sam knew it too.

"I will."

And with that, Sam smiled a strained smile, and headed into the gauntlet, jacket covering his hair and protecting him from the elements. And even though Dean was alone, the voices were still screaming, crying, all talking at once. "You never loved me!" "ALL YOUR FAULT." "John wouldn't even recognize you, anymore." "I was happier before I knew you." The last voice stuck out to Dean, above the others. He knew it well, he knew it like he knew Sam's or his own voice. Dean placed his head in his shaky hands once again.

Castiel.

Dean swallowed once again. Now Castiel was gone, officially. He left Dean, and now was screaming at him about how he was happier before he knew the hunter at all. With each claim, he took another step forward, and Dean put his hands up, showing Cas he understood, and he didn't need to hear every reason with excruciating detail, of why he hated Dean Winchester so much. Dean was loud. Needy. Annoying. A poor excuse for a hunter. The sidekick. A mistake. Dean did clutch his hands over his ears then, trying to block out the white noise of the rain, the thunder, and the outside life. All Dean could hear was all the people he cared about telling him how useless he was, and how much they hated him. 

Dean felt the cord snap, watched it slip between his fingers, his sanity falling into the deep chasm of emotions and knowledge, until all Dean knew was misery and pain and regret. He was useless. He was needy. He was annoying. How did Sam put up with him? Did he just ignore his antics, and hope he didn't get killed? Or did he throw demons at him every chance he got, hoping at least does the damage it needs to to kill that bastard? Hell, Dean could barely tolerate his own existence, how did Sam spend so much time with him, watch as Dean constantly fucked up cases and MORE people's lives by an accidental blow or mis calculated shot.

Dean's mind had a different option, as his hand was on the switchblade before he even knew it. His long finger gripped the chilled metal, and Dean regained control of his body, and looked at what his mind had gotten. Dean's face fell as he realized what his body wanted to do with itself. Tear and slice and cut until he could relish in silence, away from the voices and screams.

And Dean found it very hard to object.

Suddenly, Dean heard a voice outside mutter, "Shit forgot my phone." Sam. It was followed by hurried steps to the door, the sound amplified from the assortment of puddles scattered on the pavement.

He paced to the other side of the room, locking the clasps into place in case Sam returns early. He then returned to his post on the edge of a bed, blade clutched tightly in his hand until he turned white knuckled. The voiced quieted by someone attempting to open the door from the other side, and failing. Dean just looked at his exposed wrist, memorized.

"Dean? Did you lock the door?"

Dean exhaled, not looking away from the canvas of flesh on his arm. "Go... away, Sam..." He called, sternly but loudly.

"Dean... What are you doing? Let me in!!" He called, barely above the slashes of rain falling from the charcoal sky. Dean remained silent, the only things auditable to both brothers was the heavy rain, and Dean's jagged breath. Even the voices silenced, all awaiting the inevitable. All their yelling, finally paying off. The silence is disturbed by Sam banging into the wooden door, trying desperately to get it.

"DEAN!! DON'T YOU DARE DO SOMETHING YOU'LL REGRET!!" He called, slightly muffled by the wood. Dean stared at the veins, shrouded by careful skin just waiting to be tarnished with a knife. He took a deep breath.

"Go away, Sam. I know what I'm doing." He called, taking the metal to the skin. "Break the door down, I'll make this alot more painful." Finally, the banging subsided. He exhaled, and drew a red line across a blue vein, wincing slightly at the pain. Dean felt nothing, however, compared to the agony he's felt all his life. Suddenly, he hears a flap of wings, and a familiar looking angel standing in front, eyeing his scar. His face fell, and Cas' sad blue eyes caught Dean's woefully.

"Dean..." He sounded disappointed in the hunter, and that infuriated Dean. Why did Castiel care?! He hated Dean, so why did he care what Dean did to himself? He didn't need this false sense of security from a damn 'angel of the Lord…'

"Cas, I seriously don't need that destiny mumbo jumbo." He looked down to the red line dripping across tan flesh. "This needs to be done."

"DEAN, LISTEN TO CASTIEL!!" Sam shouted against the rain. Dean paid him no mind, however.

"Dean, please, let me speak." Cas started, walking toward him as if he was a wounded animal, which in some cases, he was. "Put the blade down."

"BLADE?!" Sam shouted.

Dean looked from his skin to his Atlantic eyes, and dropped the knife to the floorboards with a clatter. Castiel moved his hand to Dean's wrist, but he pulled it out of the angel's grasp.

"No. Talk." Dean stated, standing in front of Cas. They glared at each other. 

"We should have some privacy..." Castiel's eyes flicked toward the door. Dean let out a sigh, and walked toward the door, unlocking it and letting a drenched Sam into the motel. His eyes fell to Dean's scar, as he looked up the Dean, furious.

"What the hell, man!! What are you doing?!" His eyes flared with anger and worry. Dean had to tear his gaze away, so his head would no burst into flames. He looked to Cas.

"I'm down with privacy." Cas nodded, and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, and with a flap of wings, they are at a cemetery, shrouded by a tall oak so they don't get soaked. Dean moves, and looks at Cas, waiting for his conversation.

"Dean, why are you doing this?" Cas asks honestly, staring Dean up and down. The scar on the hunter's wrist still drips with blood, the noise fading into the downfall of the rain. Dean looks back Castiel.

"You don't understand, Cas..." He started, grasping at straws. "I feel like a weight is on my shoulders, and I got crushed." Cas' unyielding stare scorched Dean, and it was as though he was flipping through his memories, and assaulting is soul. Dean wanted him to just look away.

"Crushed? Crushed with the weight of the people you saved? And will save?" Castiel asked. Dean took a step closer, glaring into those damned blue eyes.

"Crushed by the weight of the dead bodies of people I loved and cared for." Dean spat, beyond agitated. Cas raised an eyebrow.

"If you do do this, you'll end up in hell again, right where you were before, and you'll be tortured."

"It's not like I'm being tortured now, by the voices screaming at me to go." His green eyes narrowed. "Besides, what's the alternative? I'm smart enough to know that hunters never get a 'happily ever after' with a picket fence. We don't get to find the women of our dreams, and have 8 kids. If we die, it's 'cause a monster or whatever ganked us." He got up in Cas' face, determined. "And I'll be damned if anything but me is gonna kill me." He muttered, putting as much distaste in the sentence as possible. Castiel seemed unfazed by the closeness, and even used it to his advantage. He growled, seized Dean's wrists, spinning them around and planting the hunter's back on the moist oak trunk. Dean is taken aback by the sudden forceful action. His eyes widen as Castiel leans in.

"It's amazing how utterly ignorant and oblivious you are, Dean Winchester." Cas looked in Dean's green eyes, unwilling to let Dean look away. His grip tightens on his wrist, starting to smear with blood from the wound, as his lifts Dean's wrists to the side of his head.

"Imagine Sam if he goes, and sees his older brother lying crumpled on the floor, covered in his own blood. You'd be leaving Sam all alone to defend himself, against demons and spirits." Dean let out a humorless laugh.

"Sam can take care of himself. Hell, he's been protecting me, too." Cas snarls.

"You'd rather go to hell then be with your brother, here?" Dean's head drops, building a wall for his tears. There was no way in hell Dean was going to cry in front of Castiel, in the rain, pinned against a tree. No way. When he was sure he wouldn't cry, he lifts his head to Cas.

"You told me you'd been happier before you met me."

Castiel's face drops, as his muscles loosen and relax. And for a moment, Dean thinks he's going to let go, releasing the beast. But abruptly, his grip tightens once more, as he moves closer to Dean, until his lips are smashed against his. Dean's eyes widen in shock, unable to reciprocate the kiss. His mind is flooded with new emotions, swirling and swimming in his mind. 'Cas has soft lips. Cas tastes like sweetness and mint. Cas looks adorable when his eyes are screwed shut like that.' A pleasent warmth spreads through Dean's cheeks, as he feels Castiel pull back. Dean finds himself cold and annoyed. He actually wanted Cas to keep kissing him. He wanted it now, and badly. Castiel looks back at Dean, eyes as intense as ever.

"Think about what'd you do to me if you ever left. Think about what I'd feel if the only person I've ever loved checked out, and what I'd do. I'd probably be driven into madness." His eyes narrowed. "I wasn't happy before I met you. I was miserable. Taking orders when I should have had freedom. You made me happy. You did." He finally releases his grip on Dean's wrists, still staring at him. With that, he turns around, his back to the hunter. 

"And for the record, if you ever do leave, I'd just pull you out again. I'll always pull you out of hell." His shoulders sag a bit, as he walks away from Dean. The hunter is left very overwhelmed, and strangely tingly. What Castiel told him, it made him glow with warmth and happiness. Cas was happy because of Dean. He would always save him. He would always be there. He'd always care. And Dean found the feelings mutual. As if controlled, Dean strolled forward to now a still Cas, and gripped his shoulder. With little effort, he spun the angel around to face him. Dean relished in the second of adorable confusion of his face, before he closed the distance between the two with a kiss. He turned his head a bit to deepen the kiss, unwilling to let him go, ever. He felt Cas' hand on his wrist once more, as his mended the broken and bloody flesh. Dean did not interject. He just tried to memorize everything about Cas' lips, in case this never happened again. In case something happened to either of them. Dean shuddered at the thought, and pressed his lips harder. He wasn't going let anything happen to Castiel. He wasn't going to let anything happen to Sam. Everyone might leave, but it's because it's their time. And for right here, and right now, Cas wasn't going anywhere. He was standing in the rain, under a tree, kissing Dean. He wasn't disgusted by the hunter. He was mesmerized by him. Dean didn't think about the future, nor the past. He was happy where he was, and he could stand here forever.

"I'm not going to leave." Castiel mumbled into the kiss. Dean smiled against his lips. 'Neither am I.'


End file.
